


Jackdaw

by EmeryldLuk



Series: Supernatural AU [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angels, Crossdressing, Demons, Gen, Men of Letters, Not a demon, Origin Story Sortof, Original Character(s), Original Story - Freeform, Police Relationship, Private Eye, Stalker, getting away with murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 03:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15987119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeryldLuk/pseuds/EmeryldLuk
Summary: Living the role of Leroy Jackdaw, Private Detective and Men of Letters Trainee, Layla is pretty comfortable and a little too lax about life and death. An ordinary stalker case brings Layla face to face with that and the trail of bodies in her wake.





	1. Demon Stalking

She sat in the darkest corner of the bar with a dark beer sitting on the small round table her brown work boots rested on. Black hair cut close in a military style, she looked the picture of a respectable young man in a grey suit and black vest. Her white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top. She was staring darkly in the general direction of the counter, more focused on her bad day. The bar was having a decent night with plenty of customers and no trouble so far. Yorky’s Tap wasn’t the most popular of destinations, but it did well enough in having good beer and a gorgeous hostess.

1943.

Layla reached out and took a drink of her beer. Her arm itched out of memory of the last several hours though the knife wound had long since healed.

“You’re gonna stare a hole into that table,” the waitress said. “A refill, young sir?”

“No, I still got most of this one.” Layla raised her mug. The waitress smiled and tossed her waves of golden brown hair over her shoulder.

“Then I’ll do you a favor. Stop sending those brooding looks at the counter. You’re making one drunken brute suspicious.”

“Which drunken brute? I was counting several.”

A sigh passed her lips. The waitress set down her tray and leaned on her hands over the table. “The one in the Irish mug. Black vest. Green shirt. Nice thick muscles.”

Layla took a drink, hiding the direction of her gaze. She could see the man indicated sitting at the counter with a drink in front of him. He turned to glare in their direction.

“Okay, so I’ve annoyed an Irishman enjoying his drink. Why did you come to tell me? You’re just the waitress.”

She smiled, her blue eyes glittered. “I’m a waitress that is a fervent believer in God. And I don’t believe God wants you dead tonight. Enjoy your beer.” The waitress rose and took up her tray again to make her rounds. Layla eyed the mentioned drink in her hand and then shrugged. Whatever the woman was up to was not important. But what was important?

Layla thought back on the day of pointless routine. Routine that felt stale nowadays. No matter how much her detective partner made best in his efforts, the work had become almost annoying of late. An endless cycle of running in and out of trouble followed by books and research and then more trouble. Trouble which often tried to kill her.

A shotgun blast jolted her from her musings. Pieces of the ceiling dropped around the man with the shotgun and a bloody shirt. He angrily scanned the crowd.

"I know you're in here, Jackdaw!" he yelled, throat horse. "And I'll start shooting if you don't show yourself before I count to ten. One!"

Layla slowly stood up. The man counted the next two numbers and then his voice turned to a gurgle, knife in his neck. His fingers grasped at the small blade, dislodging it and allowing the blood to spurt out.

Leaving a dollar on the table, Layla walked over to the dying man and scooped up the throwing knife off the floor. She took a handkerchief out of her inner pocket and wiped the blood off the metal.

"You going to clean that up?" The waitress said as a few women close by started panicking for real.

Layla slipped the knife back into place on her wrist. She responded, "Just tell the police what happened and send them my way."

"And how do I do that?"

"Simple. I'm Jackdaw. Leroy Jackdaw, Private Detective. They'll know who I am. Have a good night." Layla stepped over the blood pool and out the door.

 

A bell rang when she opened the door to the small office. The man at the desk looked up and took his pipe from his mouth. Three candles lit his desk and his neat auburn hair. A stack of books sat by his elbow and there was one book open in front of him.

"The drink not taste right?" he asked.

Layla shrugged off her suit jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. "More like blood doesn't mix with alcohol. The police will be by later to ask me about it."

He inspected the tobacco in the pipe. "Another angry family member or another eager demon?"

"Family member. What are you working on?" Layla turned on the one lamp in the room.

"Reading up on Egyptian myths. I felt a little stupid dealing with that cat fiasco last week. Did you have to turn on the light?"

"Yes," she sniped. "Remember, cops? Gotta look normal."

He sighed, "Fine. There's fresh coffee upstairs if you're interested."

"Sure." Layla opened the door in the back and trudged up the stairs. Two police officers stood in the office when she came back down with a cup.

"Leroy, you've got company," her partner said.

The first of the two men took one step forward and straightened his brown coat. "I'm detective Carlson, this is my partner Fuller. We were told that you were at Yorky's Tap earlier tonight. Is that true?"

"Yea, I was there." Layla took a drink of coffee and set down the cup on the desk.

Fuller asked, "Would you tell us what happened?"

"I was sitting in the corner with a drink, mulling over our most recent case. I wasn't paying attention, so the gunshot surprised me. The man with the gun was obviously distraught. He threatened to start shooting people if I didn't give myself up before he counted to ten. So, I acted first. I always carry a small knife for self defense. I threw that knife and he died. I left."

Carlson looked up from scribbling notes. "And you have that knife on you now?"

"I do." Layla slid the knife from it's sheath on her forearm.

"And do you know why he was looking for you?"

Layla picked up her coffee for another drink. "My guess is that he knew someone I arrested or dealt with recently. Not everything ends neatly despite our efforts."

"Would you agree with that statement, Detective Rodrigo?"

Rodrigo shook his head slowly. "We run into plenty of bad types, boys. You're obviously new if you don't even know that much. Leroy told you what happened. Case closed. Or is there a problem with his statement?"

Fuller shook his head. "There's no problem. Everyone we talk to at the pub pretty much said the same thing. Guy came in, shot off a round and then got dropped by a knife. I guess that'll be all."

Layla watched them leave over the edge of her coffee cup. Rodrigo puffed on his pipe.

"You are going to get killed one of these days," he said offhand.

She shrugged. "They keep trying and I am not dead yet."

"That's because you haven't been in a bad scrape. Gods would be a different story. Or a really bad day."

"Lucky me," she joked, "that is still in the future. I'm just glad nothing lasts very long."

He turned a page. "How's your arm?"

"Itches, but completely healed up. Man, I really wanted to finish that beer." She made a face into the half empty coffee cup.

"Living the Irish life isn't in your blood, Layla. You're Greek."

"Can't stop me from trying." Layla swiped the day's paper and sat down in the second chair in the room. "Besides, my mother may have been Greek, but who knows about my father. Maybe I am Irish."

"I doubt it. You're too thoughtless to be Irish." He frowned at his open book and grabbed one from his available stack. "Maybe you should try finding the next job instead of chasing that yarn again."

She rustled the paper. "I am." She settled back in the chair and engrossed herself in the words of the pages.

 

The bell chimed as the door opened. Amelia let the door swing shut behind her as she undid the sash keeping her light brown coat shut. Outside a misting shower persisted and it showed in the fine shine of rain drops clinging to her hair.

"Hello?" she called out to the lit, yet empty office. There was a noise of feet on stairs before the door opened. Amelia put on a smile for the young man that came out of that door while fixing his tie. "Oh," she whispered as she recognized the serious face looking at her.

"You're the waitress from the other day," Layla confirmed. She waved to the open chair. "Have a seat and tell me why you're here."

Amelia arranged herself in the chair. Layla sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. "I wasn't expecting you to be here. The sign says Rodrigo Emerson."

"Rodrigo and I teamed up awhile ago, he just never felt the need to change the sign. Anything he can help you with, I can do just as well."

Amelia said, "I'm sure you can. And I hope my request isn't too much trouble. Three days ago, I noticed a man following me home after my shift at Yorky's. I managed to get away from him then, but he showed up again the next day and I began seeing him during the day as well. Today, I got one of the bouncers from Yorky's to get him off my back so I could come down here without him knowing."

"Did you see this man's face at all?" Layla pulled a piece of paper and pen towards herself.

Amelia shrugged. "Tall, white, dark hair, suspicious looking. I didn't get a good look. Just a bad feeling."

Layla nodded. "I understand. I will," Layla drifted off as Rodrigo walked in the door. "Rodrigo, we have a client."

Rodrigo shrugged off his coat. "Lovely. I'm Rodrigo Emerson. And you are?"

"Amelia Harper. I was just telling Detective Jackdaw about my stalker."

"A stalker?" Rodrigo looked inquiringly at Layla. "Not exactly our normal job."

Layla rolled her eyes. "Then I will work on this alone. Finding the identity of a stalker can't be that hard."

"Have fun then." He nodded to Amelia and went through the second door.

"Well, he has high standards?" Amelia said.

"He likes unique jobs. Give me your home address and I will tail you starting tomorrow. What is your planned schedule?"

 

Layla was up early the next day to be waiting outside Amelia's home. She found a corner to hide behind and lit up a cigarette. And she stayed there as the morning passed until Amelia got up and went about her day. Layla followed the waitress from a distance, eyeing the people they passed.

She spotted him after Amelia left a local cafe for lunch. He was a scrambled looking guy with dark menacing eyes. His clothes looked as if he'd slept in them at least a few times and he hadn't shaved his dark brown beard in the same amount of time. Not to mention his tan suit and leather shoes were of cheap design.

Layla pulled out a notebook and started drawing in it a sketch of the man. She tailed further back to watch the man as he trailed Amelia. When Amelia went in to her work place, the stranger stopped and acted busy with his coat for a bit outside a sweet shop. Layla tucked her notebook away and walked up to him.

"Got a light?" Layla asked, holding her box of cigarettes in one hand. The man did a double take looking at her with confusion. "No?"

"Sorry, no," the man answered. "Look, I'm busy."

"Course. No problem." Layla put her pack away and walk down the street and into the pub. As it was the middle of the day, the room was barely busy. Layla took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink and food. The bartender poured her drink with a look of calculation.

"No, no, I'll take that, Sarah." Layla heard voices from behind the door to the kitchen.

"But,"

"No, I insist." There was a pause and then the door opened. Amelia walked out with Layla's order of fish and chips. She set it in front of Layla. "Will that be all?"

Layla took her notebook out. "Do you know this man?"

Amelia studied the sketch. "I've seen him around a few times. Don't know much else though. Brendan." Amelia called the bartender over. "This guy's been around. Know anything about him?"

Brendan picked up the picture. "Him." Layla pulled her plate closer and cut up the fish. "Some sort of Johnson. A real drunkard of a guy. What do you want with him?"

Layla reached out and took her notebook back. "Detective business. He got a first name?"

Brendan screwed up his face as he thought. "Not sure. Probably Tom or Ted. Something like that."

"Alright. Thanks. and Thanks for the food." Brendan shrugged and went back to his work cleaning glasses. Amelia took another long look at the picture and then went back into the kitchen. Layla cleaned off her plate and after a good wait went back outside to take up a post across the street.

It was dark by the time Amelia left and Layla was still across the street watching as was the rumpled stranger down the street. Amelia and Brendan exited the pub and split after a block. Layla waited for the stalker to move before heading into his shadow.

Amelia cast uneasy glances over her shoulder as she walked. Then as she turned to look back forward, she froze, finding her path blocked. The stranger grinned, showing yellow teeth and a few of those missing.

"Hi, Cutie." She back stepped past the last street lamp. He followed into the light allowing her to see his black eyes. "Shall we play?" He reached out a hand.

What happened next went as fast as a whirlwind to Amelia. She was yanked even further back by what felt like the wind. The air swirled as it rushed past. The next thing she knew, the detective was standing between them and the stalker's hand was hanging limply off his wrist.

"Demon," Layla snarled.

The man started, just as surprised as Amelia. "You, how did you?"

"Thought I couldn't catch up?"

Amelia stared. "What the hell just happened?"

Layla glanced back at Amelia. "Get on home, I-" she didn't get to finish the sentence as the demon tossed her into the brick wall of a building next to them. Amelia gripped her coat  tight as she stared at the possessed man walking towards her.

Layla grumbled under her breath as she felt cracked ribs patch themselves back together. The grinding sensation never felt quite right and on occasion hurt more than breaking them. She stood up and shook out her aching arm.

"That was not an invitation," Layla snapped. A few feet away from the frozen waitress, the demon stopped and stared at her. "How long have been out of Hell?"

The demon scowled. "Hunter," he accused.

"Answer the question."

"Long enough," he snapped back.

"Apparently not, because there hasn't been a demon stupid enough to show up in this town for twenty years." Layla brushed some bits of brick off her jacket. He gave her an arrogant sneer. She asked, "What's your name?"

He snorted and lunged. Layla batted his attack away and put one of her many knives in his left shoulder. He laughed and grabbed the handle to pull it out, but let go with a yell instead, his hand seared. He lunged at her again. She dodged and jerked the knife out at the wrong angle. He of course barely noticed his skin tearing and pushed at her. She flew back into the wall again and this time he kept her hanging off the ground.

"My name is Barbatos and you are out of your league." Layla grunted something no one else heard and he clenched his fist. Blood spurted out of Layla's mouth. Barbatos let her drop and she slammed into the ground. Barbatos turned back to Amelia and was surprised with a stab to his heart.

Amelia's hand shook as she retrieved her long silver colored knife from his chest. He stared at the bloody hole in wonder. He looked into her eyes and found steel where he had expected a frightened flower.

"Surprised, bitch?" Amelia growled. "I am so not your type."

He smiled. And then his head rolled off and hit the ground. His body followed shortly, leaving Amelia staring at Layla holding the knife in a steaming hand. Layla gritted her teeth and peeled the knife out of her hand. It dropped, taking skin and blood with it. Amelia's mouth dropped open. Black smoke  billowed from the man's dead head and streamed into the sky.

"Oh my God, Leroy. He killed you. I know he killed you."

Layla stared at her hand as it regenerated. "Yea, I was there too."

"But how?"

"I have a better question." Layla stepped over the corpse and lifted Amelia's hand holding the knife. "Who the hell are you to have an angel's weapon?"

"An angel, sorta." Amelia looked away with chagrin. "Sorry, if you don't like that, but I had no clue he was a demon."

Layla let her go and knelt at the body.

"So, what about you?"

"What about me?" Layla rummaged in the man's pockets.

Amelia sighed. "I'm an angel and you're obviously not human with how fast you regenerated. So, what are you?"

Layla found the man's wallet and flipped it open. "Tch. A local boy. That's going to get complicated. You got a car?"

"Yea, why?"

"I need you to go get it and bring it here. I can't leave this guy here to be found."

Amelia hesitated, fishing for a phrase to reason with. "Alright. I'll be a few minutes."

Layla stayed there cleaning up as she could any evidence of the fight. When Amelia came around with the car, Layla dumped the body in the trunk and joined the girl up front with the head.

"Let's get out of the town, one of the country areas will do," Layla told Amelia. Amelia pulled the car out onto the streets.

"Are you going to answer me," she asked after a long silence.

Layla sighed. "To be precise, I can't answer you. I was born this way and the most I know is the weaknesses of demons have an effect on me."

"So that's why the knife burned your hand?"

"Yea. It isn't immediate, so I can hold it for a few seconds, but any longer and I begin to burn. Lucky I heal fast."

"Yea, you should be dead."

"I've heard that a lot. Ever since I was seven and fell off a three story building. Talk about freaking out."

"Sounds rough," Amelia shot a quick glance at her passenger. "So, you're a hunter then?"

"What?"

"Barbatos. He called you a hunter. Is that why Rodrigo only takes unique cases?"

Layla started at a bump in the road that almost made her lose grip on the head in her lap. "Ugh, no. We're not hunters. Hunters are the classic misassociation, but Rodrigo and I are Men of Letters. At least he is. I'm still a trainee. Here, this looks good."

Amelia pulled into an empty lot on the side of the highway and turned off the engine. Layla went around to the trunk and rolled the body out onto the grass.

"Since we're on the subject," Layla asked, "what about you? I'm not familiar with reasons for an angel to be living among humans."

Amelia dropped her gaze, fiddling with the keys as Layla got back into the vehicle.

"It's not exactly something I like talking about."

"Sorry for asking then. And I won't say anything to Rodrigo. He'd want to ask you all sorts of questions."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Now, if we could get away from the suspicious corpse before someone else comes along?"

"Yes, of course." She started up the car again and made the u-turn back towards town and home.


	2. Angel on Your Side

"Sit," Rodrigo ordered, moving a chair away from the wall. He walked into the shared bathroom and came out with the first aid kit. He glared at Layla when he saw her still standing. "Sit down, girl. Your hand needs attention."

Layla looked at her hand. Most of the burn damage had healed, but a mottled angry red still remained. She grimaced and sat in the chair.

He talked as he applied the burn treatment to her palm and fingers. "You were gone for a day and a half on that stalker job and come back with a burnt hand and blood on your clothes. You mind explaining how that happened?"

"She was being stalked by a demon. Some strong bastard named Barbatos. Ow!"

"And you just decided to fight it, without me as backup?"

Layla rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't. It decided to make a move. I had to do something."

"Then what happened that you burned your hand?"

"My knife. I was holding it for several seconds. Ow! That hurt."

Rodrigo tied off the bandage. "And the blood on your clothes?"

"Partially his, mostly mine."

"Yours? you're not even scratched."

"He crushed my insides. I coughed up that blood as I was half dying, half regenerating. You done?"

"Yeah. So, you died again? and what did you learn from it this time?"

"That it hurts to have a demon crush your windpipe and then for it to fix itself. Nothing that I didn't already know." Layla rubbed her palm. "I regenerate fast from any and all injury. The demon weakness just limits it."

"Okay." He rubbed his forehead. "You are a headache upon a headache."

"Two years of working with me and you're just figuring it out now?"

Rodrigo scowled at her. "I let you work with me because you're one hell of a fighter and that regenerative ability interests me. But the most we know is you've got demonic blood. And that you are not human. One of these days," he shook his head and trailed off. They both heard the bell ring for the front door opening.  Rodrigo sighed and stood up.

"I will be back," he said and left the room. Layla stood as well and moved to change out of her blood stained clothes.

The door flew off the hinges while she was redressing. Layla shot across the room to her knife. The intruder met her halfway, shoving her up against the wall.

Demon eyes sparkled with glee at her. "Well, I was expecting this to be interesting, but not this interesting. A woman."

"Barbatos."

"Smart, strong, immortal. I like that. Tell you what. I was planning on offing you just on principle. But I'll let you live and we can play a few games. For starters, I'll go kidnap the other girl and you can chase after us." he removed his hand from her throat. Layla sucked in a ragged breath and took a wild swing at him. Barbatos, in his new vessel, stepped out of range and snapped his fingers. The air went clear as he vanished. Layla slammed a fist into the wall.

Properly dressed, Layla ran down the stairs and found the office a bloody mess. Rodrigo's cold body was sprawled over the desk. Layla closed his staring eyes. She swept out the door without a glance behind.

 

Layla breathed in slow and quiet. She could hear a slight wind making the chains creak and clank as they swung ever so slightly. Otherwise the abandoned car factory remained ghostly silent. She rested high up on the beams, feet propped in the V shape of the cross beams.

A grinding noise broke the quiet as the main door rolled open. Layla heard the voice of Barbatos vessel as he ordered his captive inside.

"Keep walking, bitch," he growled with a push to Amelia's back. Amelia looked worse for wear with her hands tied in front of her, dirt on her face and her hair all gnarled in knots. Three days of the run and hide routine did not suit the clothes she wore for work. Barbatos pushed her deeper into the factory.

Layla rolled off the beam, unsheathing her better knife as she dropped. She landed behind Barbatos.

"Let her go," Layla demanded. Barbatos turned, jerking Amelia in front of him as a shield.

Amelia croaked, "Jackdaw?"

"You caught up." Barbatos tightened his grip on Amelia's arm.

"I was waiting. Now let her go." Layla raised her knife.

"Try it."

"I will." Layla dropped her knife hand to thrust up her other one. Barbatos blinked as he found himself flying. Layla went over to Amelia and cut the ropes on her wrists. "Alright?"

"Yea."

"Then get going." Layla walked past. "I got a job to finish."

"I am not going to just leave you here, Jackdaw."

Layla struck out with her knife as Barbatos came rushing at her. He dodged aside, getting by with a simple scratch on the outside of his arm. She ducked under his punch. Grappling with him. she ran him into one of the many columns in the large space. The steel piece bent slightly on impact. Layla moved to stick him with the knife in her hand. he reached out and slammed her into the concrete floor. A sneer twisted his features in the darkness.

"I will enjoy beating you to a pulp. Slowly."

Layla switched her grip and slashed at his arm. He yelled and pulled away. She grabbed a hold to his sleeve to keep him close. "Have fun trying." Her knife found a home in his gut. He snarled and brought a fist down on her face. Bone and cartilage crunched. Layla shoved him away with a thought and movement. He hit the steel rafter and bounced down. Layla got to her feet, screaming. Bent out of shape, her nose grated back to normal.

"I hate broken noses," she whispered.

Watching warily, Amelia stared at the two in wonder and fear. To her both seemed amazing for being able to bash at each other so easily without flinching. Layla wiped the blood off her mouth with the back of a gloved hand and faced down Barbatos yet again. The man bled now quite heavily, but he looked far from done.

Lips curling, Barbatos raised his hand as if clutching something. Layla brought her own hand up in response. The air compressed between them and burst out the sides. dust and stone bits skipped across the floor past her. Layla strained against the feel of his power pushing hers away. She gritted her teeth and dug in deeper.

He faltered seeing her eyes turn black and was almost blown over by the surge in her power. Rapidly recovering, Barbatos struck through the wall erected in front of her. Layla moved backwards into the steel plate wall, pinned there.

"Traitor of a demon," he spat. "I am disgusted to know one of my own kind is trying to kill me to protect a pathetic angel."

Layla ground out, "I am not a demon."

"Liar." He clenched his fingers closer together, causing Layla to choke. Amelia screamed.

"No!"

Out of air, all Layla could think about was Rodrigo, dead in the office. Forget that the guy had kidnapped Amelia for a game of hide and seek, Rodrigo had tutored her since her teenage years. The man had his faults, but he valued a good fight and a good fighter. He had kept her from prison every time she got into trouble and taught her about the world she lived in.

She realized she could breath before she felt the heat of the flames pouring over the metal and stone of the factory. The flames black as ink were warm to the touch, but washed over her skin like water. Everything else burned like paper. Black smoke poured out of the human body as the flames rushed to consume that too.

"Jackdaw, let's go," Amelia ran, backing away from the encroaching danger as fast as she could. Layla picked herself up and trotted across the crumbling floor.

"Oh my God," Amelia said quietly as if afraid to be heard while staring at the burning mess. She clutched her hands together above her heart. Layla walked past several feet before stopping to look. The black flames consumed the entire building without prejudice, not even leaving behind ashes, only a hole in the ground and a few lonely trash bins inside a chain link fence. "All of it gone," Amelia whispered.

"At least there's no evidence left behind," Layla muttered.

Amelia turned and fixed on Layla with a strange look she could not place. "I was told about the black flames in heaven. Black flames that devour, and the rarest of gifts. The angels will have noticed."

"Angels? Why should you feathery folk care about some fancy fire?"

Amelia was careful not to actually touch Layla, but she rushed to leave anyway. "Because any user of black fire must be destroyed lest they destroy the world. It is one of the strongest decrees we have."

Layla stopped again. "What about you? Will you try to kill me too?"

"No." Amelia pleaded, "We must be gone before others arrive. Please, Jackdaw. They would kill me too. I will not harm you."

Scratching her neck, Layla said, "My car is down the road a bit. I will take you home." She started to jog along the gravel road.

 

Letting Amelia get out at her house, Layla drove, instead of back to the place she had shared with Rodrigo, to a particular bar she knew would be open still. Triskey's was quite a dive with late hours and a sketchy reputation. The pudgy man wiping down beer mugs at the sink with receding black hair nodded to her without really looking when the door opening announced her arrival.

A two in the morning, the bar had a crowd of sorts. A party in one corner consisted of five half drunk men with some equally drunk girls. One lonely blue collar worker sat at the counter with what was probably his fifth mug in front of him. A trio of off duty cops sat in another chatting gaily about their women folk at home. A large group of six guys sat in the back playing some card games over whiskey.

Layla took a stool at the bar as far from the lonely drunk as she could. The bartender, Alastor, turned around and met her eyes. For a moment he went pale, and then he forced a smile out and carefully put down the mug in his hands.

"Welcome, Jackdaw," he said as causally as he could manage. Layla's eyes flicked over to the off duty cops, but none of them had noticed. "Didn't expect to see you again. What can I get for you?"

"A shot of that Rum mixer you make. Why didn't you expect to see me again?"

Alastor went about pulling out the various things he needed for the drink. "Well, news is your partner, Rodrigo, is dead. Figured you would be too."

Layla smirked. She had a feeling what the news had been. "Nope, still in one piece, lucky for you. I wasn't at home when it happened, so I only found out later. Tell me, have the police learned who did it?"

"Not that I know." He stared at the shot glass he handed her. "I heard they have a few suspects, but there hasn't been an arrest yet. So, you weren't at home?"

"Out on a job. Thanks." Layla picked up the shot glass, toasted Alastor and drained it down her throat.

"Out on a job," he repeated slowly, his eyes drifting behind her. Layla mentally groaned.

"Leroy Jackdaw," A gruff voice said. Layla half turned to see one of the off duty cops. He was skinny with a thick mustache. She glanced down at the stains on his pants that looked a bit like barbeque sauce and looked back up at his face. "I am arresting you for the murder of Rodrigo Emerson. You have the right to remain silent." He continued to ramble off the words he was trained to say. Layla looked back at Alastor who guiltily looked down. She dropped off the stool and allowed the officer to slap handcuffs onto her wrists. Alastor refused to look at her as she was walked out of the bar.

Layla remain stone silent through out the entire questioning process. Growing tired of talking to a brick wall, The detective assigned to the case gave up and left the room. Layla frowned and yanked on the handcuffs. She could break them, she knew, but that wouldn't solve the issue of the arrest.

To her surprise, the door opened again. She watched the man sit down. Officer O'leary was the Chief of Police in this district. He brought no papers with him, simply walked in and took the opposing chair.

"I've known you for a long time, Leroy. Ever since Rodrigo picked you up off the streets as a teen. I know you've quite the violent streak, but I never imagined you could kill another human. Especially him."

Layla leaned forward. "Because I didn't."

He flapped one hand. "I know." he smiled at her surprised eyes. "I know what kind of work he did. Saved me long time ago. Before you were around. The problem is, there is no evidence of anyone else. If I were on the case, you'd be out of here quick as can be. But I'm not. Doesn't matter what you or I say. You've an unspoken reputation for leaving bodies behind. You'll go to jail, and then we'll have problems of another kind."

Layla scowled, shifting to test the handcuffs again. "Then I will just have to avoid that, won't I?"

"You'll be on the run," he cautioned.

"Obviously. Mr. O'leary, you have my thanks for all the years you've spent helping me. Teaching me to use a gun and all the books you gave me. I really do value everything you've done for me."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you getting at, you ungrateful lout of a chap? You never say thank you for anything of the sort."

She shrugged. "Oh, totally. I just thought it would sound like a good way to apologize for beating you senseless." She brought up her knee under the table, bringing up her side. Flexing her hands, the handcuffs snapped apart.

"Layla," O'leary cried out in shock, rushing to his feet. She moved too fast for him, hitting him three times in the face and once in the sternum. O'Leary slumped over with a groan.

"What's going on in her-ah!" A young officer opened the door only to get kicked into the wall. He slumped as his eyes rolled up. Layla pulled the gun off the young man's belt and pointed it down the hall at the next officer in line. Carrying a box of files, the man froze to stare at her.

"Move aside," she ordered. He considered the box in his hands and pressed himself against the wall. Layla ran passed him and through the office area beyond.

"Leroy escaped!" the shout followed her out the door. Layla glanced at the gun she had taken and tossed it in a garbage can she passed up while running. She ducked into a rather narrow alley to strip off the suit jacket and vest she had been wearing. The alley remained barely wide enough for her to run down normally until it opened into a small parking lot behind the shops. In an instant she was at the other side, and running full out down the street there.

She was long gone by the time the police turned the corner, running with inhuman speed through alleys and around corners. Layla stopped running at gardener's shop she knew of. The door sign said closed, but when she went around back and knocked on the door, a grandmotherly woman pulled the door ajar.

"The letters never lie," Layla told the lady. With a satisfied nod, the lady brought the door the rest of the way open. Layla stepped inside. "Thanks."

"What trouble brings you to my shop so late, young lady?" The lady hoisted her flower print night dress and robe to climb the three steps up to the first level.

"I need a wig and clothes. Something with long hair if you could?"

The light flickered on and a door hidden in the wall swung open. This door opened to a set of stairs that descended into a basement full of spices, books, clothes and other spell components. The lady turned to give Layla a deciphering look in the new lighting and sniffed.

"Not proper for a girl as pretty as you to be going about like that. You have to find a good man before it is too late, you know?"

Layla grumbled, "Leave your natterings for someone that cares. Female clothes, but something practical for running in."

The lady sniffed and turned to her clothing racks. Layla waited the long minutes of shifting hangers and low mutterings about wrong size and wrong look by fidgeting her hands. Finding a set of clothes she thought suitable, the lady pushed the pile into Layla's hands and pointed to a curtained off portion.

 


End file.
